


Escape

by Imnotkellly



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Addiction, Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Cutting, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, Secrets, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, killer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imnotkellly/pseuds/Imnotkellly
Summary: Tyler Joseph did not turn out the way he was supposed to and he certainly isn’t who everyone else thinks he is.He’s a suicidal, psychopathic individual who is harboring a secret that has left him feeling empty and craving a way to feel whole again.  He knows he’s different, and he knows his addictions are a result of his past but he can’t remember why. The only remaining individual who knows his secret is his sister, who thinks Tyler has forgotten his past for good and has moved on.However when Tyler meets Josh Dun, a man who reminds him of his past that has been kept at bay for so long, his desires flood his mind and he becomes consumed with the man, and his true self becomes revealed. No longer is Tyler a prisoner to himself. His true self has escaped, and now it’s Josh’s turn to escape or the result will be fatal.





	Escape

I’ve been addicted to too many things in my life. Gum, Nicotine, Xanax, exercise, you name it and it’s more than likely a problem I’ve had to conquer several times throughout my life. I can’t tell if I am seeking out these addictions or they all just happen to find their way over to me. Either way, I deserve it. Or I just tell myself that to hide the fact that I cannot live without being addicted to something. It sounds crazy, but you wouldn’t blame me for having this mindset if you found out the reason why I needed a distraction so badly. I never thought my life would turn out like this though. I crave the return to a time when I actually had hopes and dreams and a positive outlook on life. I can’t escape boredom and the deep depression I find myself in time after time again, but I can find distractions and obsessions to help me cope which I suppose is why I’m here in the hospital again. You know this is the thirteenth time I’ve attempted suicide? 

I stop talking and the psychiatrist they've assigned me scratches rapidly on her notepad, finishing the thoughts that she's been vigorously writing down, or whatever she's been trained to write down during sessions like these, and looks up at me with wide eyes. I sense she is slightly empathetic towards me. It's hiding behind her fear for me, but I notice it's there, and it would be idiotic of me to not take advantage of it. She must realize the facial expression she is making and quickly returns to the neutral appearance she had before I began talking.

"Mr. Joseph, you said you are aware of the reason why you need distractions so badly. Would you care to elaborate?" She continues to look at me with this plastic caricature of neutrality and begins tapping her pen gently on the pad of paper resting on her lap. I avert my eyes from hers and turn my head to the source of the tapping, where I notice the stone wrapped around her ring finger. Based upon her young appearance, and the condition of the ring, I guess she has recently eloped. Turning my head, I lock eyes with hers and open my mouth.

"You see when I was younger my best friend was killed, and a couple years back both my parents passed. But that's all in my file which you've probably already looked through, along with the list of addictions, medications, and programs I've been to throughout the years. But I've talked enough about that shit in the past and that's not the reason I'm here. You see I had a fiancee. I kept it hidden from my family though because she wasn't exactly the type of girl they imagined me being with. She had a drug problem but was in rehab, or so I had thought. She was the sweetest soul I'd ever met though and I was completely head over heels in love with her. I came home a couple months ago and found her lying on the bathroom floor. The needle was still jammed into her arm, but when she hit the floor it dragged across her skin and ripped her arm open. I assumed she hit her head on the way down too because the pool of blood I found her in was enough to drown her. The medical examiner determined her cause of death to be an overdose and the wounds were post-mortem. Yesterday would've been one year since I proposed, and I just snapped. Everyone that I love never stays. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To lose everyone you love? To lose the one person you're in love with?"

By the time I'm finished her face is paler than the paper she had previously been writing on and she can no longer mask her emotions. I knew just the thought of losing her spouse would get to her. I could tell she was weak through one look in her eyes, and because of that, her vulnerability laid in plain sight. Everyone has something that will break them, but for some, it's more tedious to discover.

"Are you okay?" I ask and lean forward in my chair, putting on this great, marvelous act of looking surprised that this woman was on the verge of tears from my own tragic tale.  
She nods her head, but won't meet my gaze. "I think we are done for the day Mr. Joseph, I'll see you tomorrow." She slowly drags her notepad to her chest, almost caressing it like it was her own broken heart, and uncrosses her legs. The woman lifts herself from the armchair she was occupying and removes herself from the room with haste, allowing the door to slam shut behind her and not once lifting her head from the view of the floor.  
I smirk and look down at my lap, tracing my fingers on my skin through the hole in my jeans. The sound of the doorknob turning breaks my gaze and I look up to see the doctor who was assigned to my case. The sound of wailing is the only thing that can be heard, and the clearing of her throat is the only attempt at breaking the awkward silence consuming the room's atmosphere.

"We are putting you on a new antidepressant that has no record of causing suicidal thoughts and we are going to keep you here for a couple more days to monitor you and ensure you are not a threat to yourself. We don't believe you are Mr. Joseph, you're just having a hard time from what I hear. We called your sister to inform her of what has happened, and she is coming to offer you her support and care. I'm here to escort you back to your room."

The woman slightly pushes on the door with her palm to ensure there is enough room for me to pass, and I rise from my chair. As I'm passing through the doorway I find the source of the wailing that was piercing the ears of everyone on the floor. The psychiatrist I was just with sat straight ahead of me, crying into the shoulder of another doctor. I give a sympathetic smile to the doctor comforting her and she returns the same gesture. I dangle my head as an act of guilt after the exchange because that is what one is supposed to do in this situation, and I approach the elevator. I press the button with the knuckle of my index finger, let my arm fall back to my side and I impatiently tap my foot. I have to keep looking anxious and guilty or the doctor will get suspicious. She places her hand on my left shoulder and squeezes it. I turn my head and offer another smile and return my head to its previous position. Man do they need to clean these floors. The elevator doors finally open and we shuffle in. I keep my eyes glued to the floor, and hers on the elevator doors. We were only going up to the next floor so the ride wasn't long and there was no awkward tension floating through the air, trying to suffocate my lungs like it has so many other times.

The doors open to reveal a patient in a wheelchair awaiting the arrival of the elevator, and I swiftly walked past him to avoid another sympathetic exchange with someone I couldn't care less about. My room was only a few steps away from the elevator so the doctor gave me the privilege of walking there on my own. I let my body collapse face-first onto the bed provided, and I groan when my wrists touch its surface. These fucking wounds will be the death of me. If only.  
I flip myself over to allow my eyes to search for something more entertaining to view so my brain doesn't explode from the immense amount of boredom this hospital has provided me with since last night. One day in this place and I'm already starting to lose what's left of my mind. 

I slowly pull myself up so I'm sitting upright and I glance out the window at a cloudless sky. I see a child and his mother holding hands as they walk down the street, arms swinging, their heads snapped back, and their eyes squeezed shut with what appears to be laughter escaping their mouths. I think any normal individual would smile upon witnessing such a lighthearted moment, but here I sit with the same expressionless face I always have on, unaffected by such an event. Oh, how I wish it was raining out so I wouldn't have to sit here and plan on switching my expression to a fake face of nostalgia if someone were to suddenly walk in. I don't understand how someone could form such a close bond with another individual and actually put their trust in another being. I must admit there have been times when I've been fond of others and have made good memories with them, but I haven't felt that way in years and I doubt I ever will again. The only thing I got out of this mother and child was an idea of how to get out of here. If only my sister would hurry up and arrive so I could put my plan into action.

My veins suddenly flood with adrenaline, most likely from the position I was sitting in since I was leaning on my wounds and causing myself unnecessary pain, but I convince myself it was due to the brilliance of my idea and my excitement from it. I jolt my body from the position I was sitting in, hissing in pain from the release of pressure on my wrists, and make my way towards the only door in the room other than the exit. The bathroom is surprisingly clean compared to the floors and the rest of the building, and I inhale a large waft of artificial lemon through my nose upon entering. It smells pleasant enough that I begin to consider camping out in here until they release me.

I turn my attention to the reflective piece of glass mounted on the wall next to me and rest my palms on the sink below it. How the hell did I even get here, I thought I had finally done it right. Every fucking time I attempt to take my own life something has to go wrong. Why can't people just realize I was born to die? I mean I can't make it any more obvious that I am unhappy being a life force on earth. I spend my days in darkness and isolation, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of something to do or try that will fill the emptiness inside of me. And every time I find something that makes me actually feel something, hell euphoric even, my sister or a doctor determines it to be dangerous and unhealthy for myself and those who surround me. Who the hell cares? I don't care how my actions affect others, this is my body and my life, not theirs. How one could be so affected by another's actions I will never understand, but as long as I'm here I have to keep up the facade that I do understand. I have to convince the doctors that what happened was a stupid mistake, that I was just overemotional at the time, that I'm regretful of my actions and how they affected myself and those who care about me, and that once I get out of here I will never attempt something like this again. 

But now, of course, I have a new addiction that I have to hide from the world, but this time I don't think it will be that challenging. It's easy to draw a blade across my skin and hide the red that oozes out and the scratch-like marks that will stain my skin from the rest of the world. For god's sake, I'm not stupid, I would never do it anywhere visible. It just felt so good. The last time I felt that alive was when I was depriving my body of "appropriate nutrition."

A light tap on the door breaks me out of the trance I was unaware I was in, and I release my now incredibly tight grip from the counter of the sink. I think back to the last time my grip was this tight. It was at my kitchen sink, two years ago. I shudder at the memory that floods my mind and sigh, letting out the breath I didn't know I was holding in. "Coming" I mutter, assuming it was a doctor making sure I wasn't doing anything hazardous to myself.

I turn the faucet on and let the cool water pour out into my palm, and quickly bring it towards my face, splashing the cool liquid on myself to suppress my thoughts and beckon the normal persona I've spent years crafting. Eyes still shut, I reach for a towel and am met with a course, paperlike material. For a moment I forgot I wasn't home. The fist that knocked on the door before meets the same surface, creating the same sound from before. "I said I'm coming," I respond between clenched teeth, revealing a slightly annoyed tone. Everyone around here is so impatient. I remove the paper from my face and crumple it into a ball, tossing it into the bin beside the sink, and turn to exit. As my body rotates I catch a glimpse of my appearance in the mirror and notice a streak of red in my eyes. Shaking my head, I look back at my reflection, but see nothing. Thinking it was just my fucked up imagination, I reach for the knob and pull the door open.

I'm greeted with the face of my sister, whose face is plastered with genuine concern. She pulls me into an embrace, and I stay frozen with my hands at my sides and give her a second before pulling her away from my chest. Her head lifts up, and she looks to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm glad you're here, but it's almost time for the doctor to check on my wounds and I know you're squeamish when it comes to this stuff, so I would wait in the chair outside my room for a couple minutes if I were you."

Immediately she breaks down into a sob, her shoulders hunched over, and she brings her hands to her eyes to stop the flow of tears. "Jesus Tyler, when I said I wanted to come and visit you soon this is not what I had in mind." She continues to cry and lets out a sound that seems like an attempt at laughter, but just winds up choking on her snot and saliva. Removing her hands from her eyes and sliding the back of one of her sleeves across her nose, she turns to exit, sniffling on the way, and places herself in the seat closest to the door and sticks the tip of her fingers into her mouth. She never did get rid of her nail biting habit.

I sigh again, plopping myself onto the bed that's too small for someone of my height, and can't help but release a faint laugh from my chapped lips since I'm totally breaking the record for the number of sighs that have left my mouth in a single day.

A moment of me playing with the strings on my ripped jeans passes, and my doctor walks in with a nurse who looks to be still in medical school, probably an intern. I look back down at my lap and smirk, I might as well have some fun while I'm stuck here.

"Tyler, this is my intern, Thomas. Is it okay with you if I update him on your case, and let him watch and help me out right now?"  
"Sure," I say and bring the corner of my lip up on one side, revealing my teeth with a smile, turning my attention over to the scrawny boy standing to the doctor's left.  
Obviously, whatever tension he had built up seeped out upon my reaction because his body appeared to deflate into a normal stance and he too allows for the formation of a smile to occur on his face.  
"Okay Thomas, Tyler is here because of a suicide attempt. He managed to create pretty deep gashes in both wrists and he almost bled out, but luckily he was brought to us in time. The lacerations have already been stitched, but we just need to check on the stitches to make sure they will heal correctly, and apply medication if necessary. Tyler, is it okay if Thomas unwraps your wounds and does the process I just described?"

I offer another smile, but this time a devious one, and give him a dangerous looking glare. I don't break my stare as he approaches me, his short steps despite his tall build indicate he's reluctant to do so. Whatever tension left his body he absorbed right back in as if he were a sponge, and he looks like he's about to explode from anxiety. The kid is almost shaking from fear, and a normal individual would attempt to ease his tension through sympathetic words and gestures, but being this might be my only entertainment for the day and I don't care about this kid, I do neither. He finally reached the bed where I sit upright, and I stick out both wrists, so abruptly and I could tell from a slight panic in his eyes he was startled by it. Breaking my gaze I look down at his hands that are now unwrapping the bandage on my left wrist, and when my wound finally hits the cold hospital air, I hiss in pain in an attempt to scare him, and because of the slight pain that I did feel. He moves over to the right wrist and follows the same procedure with a focused stare. His tongue is stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he places the bandage down next to the other on the sheets of my bed and picks up my left wrist. Rotating it and examining the wounds he determines the stitches have been properly placed and will be effective for my healing process. Nodding in agreement, my doctor picks up the clipboard that had been resting at her side and begins to scribble something down, probably just a praise for a job well done even though the task was so simple she could probably do it with her eyes closed.

Looking pleased with himself and a bit more relaxed, he calmly picks up my right wrist to examine the other. He makes contact with one of the lacerations and I look down towards my left side and inhale loudly through my nose and push my shoulders up to indirectly express that that fucking hurt. In reality, it didn't, I almost melted into his touch because the sting that accompanied his action sent a wave of adrenaline through my body making me feel euphoric, but I just wanted to fuck with him. I would die from boredom if I didn't, and besides, I had to continue to express regret for my actions and that I actually hate what I did so the doctor doesn't suspect anything.

Moving only my eyes, I see the doctor expressing concern with the clipboard at her side again, and fear now clouding over Thomas's once calm eyes. His continues to examine the wound and decides he needs to clean this one to ensure there will be no infection and to clean the dried blood that managed to escape the stitches from last night.

I put on an act of gulping while nodding in agreement, making sure I have fear nested into my eyes before I meet his own. He stares back, looking like he's about to shit his pants. The doctor agrees with his decision and hands over the supplies needed. He very gently dabs on the wound, and once again I turn my head to the side, this time gripping the sheets underneath me so tightly my knuckles turn white. I keep my eyes wide open while looking to the side so that when he finally finishes it appears I'm on the verge of tears.

He looks over at me, fear and anxiety dominating his body this time, and offers a sympathetic smile. But partly because I want to scare this kid, and partly because I'm done exchanging sympathetic gestures with people today, I turn my eyes into tiny slits and just glare at him. I see my reflection through his teary eyes, and for a split second that streak of red appears in my eyes again. I think he noticed it too because all of a sudden he is blinking rapidly with this astonished look on his face and quickly reverts his attention back to the reason I'm in this damned place.

He opens a packet of some gel-like substance that I suppose will help with the healing process, and his now shaking hands gently massage it over my lacerations. The sting feels like heaven, but I snap my head and glare at him once again. He doesn't look up this time, only fastens his pace and when he's done he reaches for new bandages. He wraps both wrists up as if I'm being mummified, and briskly bring my hands away from his, lying down on the bed with my eyes squeezed shut as if I'm still in pain. I hear the sound of something being placed on the tray attached to the bed and two individuals walking out. I open one eyelid and see the intern, Travis I think, walking with his head and shoulders dangling in a downward position like the floor was a magnet preventing him from looking anywhere else.

My sister hurriedly walks in and sits in the chair adjacent to my bed, taking my hand into her own, and squeezing it gently.  
"Mads, you have to get me out of here, I can't stand another day here. All the doctors are talking about is this stupid fucking couple who was in a horrible collision that has left a man in a coma in critical condition and his wife dead. I can't stop thinking about Mom and Dad. They'll agree to release me if you allow them to. Please, Mads, I'm going more and more insane the more I sit here."  
By the time I'm finished I'm staring at her with tears slowly rolling down my face. She meets my eyes and drags her thumb across my cheek, removing the warm and salty liquid from my skin and carries it for me. She's always taken on my burdens as her own, despite being the younger sister and all, and I don't know how or why she does it.

Sighing, she exhales an "okay". Another sigh huh. "I'll sign the release forms, but only if you talk to me this time." She looks at me pleadingly and looks beyond pleased when I nod my head.  
"I'll see you tomorrow T, I have to get home to Mia. Unless you want me to stay the night? God, what was I even thinking? Of course, I'll stay, I'll see if Jenna can stay over at my place tonight."  
"No, Maddy, go home and get some sleep it's already half past ten. I'm not going anywhere, and I bet Mia misses her wonderful mother. Just promise you'll bring her here tomorrow, yea? Maybe then I won't die of boredom with her around." I finish with a smile and look pleadingly down at her. She reluctantly shakes her head in agreement, and sits up, cracking her knees in the process, and bends forward to plant a kiss onto my forehead.  
"Night Ty, I'll be back tomorrow. Don't miss me too much." She winks, leaving only one eye exposed and offers the same smirk I've given to others countlessly throughout my life.  
"Bye, Maddy." I wave, and give one of those no teeth smiles people give when they are tired, and rest my head back onto the most uncomfortable pillow my head has ever laid on.

Staring at the ceiling, I try and force myself to sleep, but to no avail. I turn to my side and glance out the glass that separates my room from the rest of the floor and see that Timothy kid from before on the phone with someone, turned to his side so he's leaning against a counter. I strain my ears and eyes to hear what he's saying while staring at his lips because although it's too hard to hear what he's saying, my deaf studies in college haven't entirely failed me. I manage to barely hear "No, this is not" and am able to see he's mouthing the words "for me" over the phone, and I can't help but smirk thinking I've probably made him question his entire future. Which is only fair, I mean I am plagued with overthinking and questioning my life each and every day, someone else deserves to for a change. And besides, whoever he's on the phone with is going to convince him that he's basing his future off of one bad encounter with a suicidal guy and that he should give it more of a chance before entirely deciding eight years enrolled in medical school was a complete waste.

I see him sigh in relief and mouth "Yea, okay thanks a lot you're right. See you soon." and hang up his phone. I hope the sighing ends when this day does because I cannot take another minute of it. Thank god I don't work in a hospital. He turns to go check with my doctor or another patient I'm assuming and makes eye contact with me. Instead of masking a neutral expression, I let him see it. I think he notices the red streak in my eyes again because he starts to do the weird blinky thing he did before, but turns and rushes his steps to his destination before he has the chance to finish his reaction. Turning on my side towards the window I imagine the same mother and child from before, same heads snapped back from the force of laughter, and I imagine myself coming up from behind them and slitting their throats. I don't know why but sometimes I just imagine these horrible thoughts and scenarios. I never have acted upon them and only have tormented myself because even though I don't care if I did those things, I'd care if I had to spend the rest of my life rotting in some prison cell that is dirtier than this hospital.

I release one last sigh to signal the end of today and shut my eyes in an attempt to fall asleep and rid my mind of my thoughts. The image of blood spurting out of their necks replays in my mind for what feels like hours, but is probably only ten minutes, until red is all I can see and I drift off to sleep.


End file.
